Iโd cut my soul into a million different pieces just to form a constellation to light your way home. Iโd write love poems to the parts of yourself you canโt stand. Iโd stand in the shadows of your heart and tell you Iโm not afraid of your dark.
Andrea GibsonWhat I know about living is the pain is never just ours Every time I hurt I know the wound is an echo So I keep a listening to the moment the grief becomes a window When I can see what I couldnโt see before, through the glass of my most battered dream, I watched a dandelion lose its mind in the wind and when it did, it scattered a thousand seeds. So the next time I tell you how easily I come out of my skin, donโt try to put me back in just say here we are together at the window aching for it to all get better
Andrea GibsonThe trauma said, โDonโt write these poems. Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.
Andrea GibsonTouch me โtil my ribs become piano keys, โtil there is sheet music scrolled across the inside of my lungs.
Andrea GibsonYou panic button collector. You clock of beautiful ticks. You run out the door if you need to. You flock to the front row of your own class. You feather everything until you know you can always, always shake like a leaf on my family tree and know you belong here. You belong here and everything you feel is okay. Everything you feel is okay.
Andrea Gibson